


Candlelight

by CynthiaCrescent



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 20:51:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11699688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynthiaCrescent/pseuds/CynthiaCrescent
Summary: The wagon stops one night. A different tale unfolds under the flickering green glow.





	Candlelight

**Author's Note:**

> One-shot, maybe. Yes, I do read every comment.

The wagon stops.

You poke your head above the blanket. The only light you saw was of faint distant stars and the gently swaying lantern by the window. You clumsily swat away the clutter to let the dim green ray of light shine on the bright orange fur of the driver imp.

“Skree-kikir-ki-ri-ha.”

Ti’zo knows not of the problem, but he goes outside to inspect. Presently, his dusty but energetic blue wings carry him away from view. You stick your head back under the covers, trapping the green light back into the glowing orb whence it came.

“What’s wrong?” asks a warm, ethereal female voice.

You tell her you don’t know yet, but assure her it’s going to be all right.

“Oh lovely Reader, I’d much rather you worry about your own safety.” You can hear Sandra giggle. “Who knows what sort of heartless raiders or beasts lurk these woods at night.”

You express surprise at Sandra being able to tell the time of day.

“The imp has been quiet,” she explains.

You say that Ti’zo is outside trying to figure out what’s wrong.

“Whatever it is, it gives us some time alone.” You see Sandra smile. “They say three’s a crowd.”

“Skree-haa-ak-hi.”

She scowls at Ti’zo’s return. The imp says a wheel mechanism has rusted on the outside, and needs to be fixed. You implore him to wait until daylight. He accepts. You propose staying watch. He accepts. The two of you start a campfire by a nearby clearing. The imp yawns. You convince it to rest. The imp obliges.

Presently, you sit alone on a dry log, with the Beyonder Crystal in your lap. You caress it.

“Is he gone?”

You tell Sandra that Ti'zo should already be sleeping.

“Good.” She sighs. “I like him, I do, but I just don’t have the energy for it.”

You explain that the imp gets lonely easily now that all of his old friends have moved on. You see Sandra's expression relaxes.

“If only that Fae girl was still here. Those two were made for each other.” She catches your fleeting gaze. “Are you lonely too?”

You tell her you’ve been having bouts of melancholy ever since Pamitha left.

“Maybe I can help. We’re alone. It should be all right.”

You tell her you’re not sure what she’s talking about.

“Set the crystal down by the fire, but not too close.”

You express concern, but she waves it off. Defeated, you decide to comply. The orb glows warm as it approaches the flame, and the core emits a new, brighter light. You’ve seen this before, during the rites. The pyres used to resonate just like this.

A stream of fog, dense and green, seethes forth from the crystal and manifests itself next to you. It grows larger, until the light stops abruptly. As the smoke disperses, you see a silhouette. It’s familiar, one you’ve never imagined could be so physical. The thin robe, brown scarf, and leather bandana you’ve all seen before, but they have never been as real as now.

“Hello there, my lovely Reader.”

You are at a loss for words, as Sandra drew closer to you. Her hands gently reach for your leg, your hip, your hair.

“Eight hundred and eighty years,” she says. There’s a tinge of bitterness in her voice.

You are unsure of how to react. She laughs faintly at your lack of words.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered. A fearless legend to everyone in the Commonwealth, but only I get to see you like this.”

She rests her head on your shoulders, as you two link hands. It’s warm and delicate, and you can feel her fingers rubbing the back of yours.

“Sometimes I ask myself: what did I do to deserve a woman like you?” She closes her eyes. “I’m just a helpless phantom that happens to fall madly in love with the first person who gives a damn.” An uncomfortable pause. “I still can’t believe you gave up your freedom for me.”

You assure her that you have no regrets, that your decision to remain is the correct one. She smiles.

“You always know what to say to please me, don’t you? I don’t hate it.” She softly clutches your sleeve.

You don’t reply, for she captivates you: the way her chest rises with every breath, the way her dark locks sway in the night wind, or the way her loose grip clings to your arm. You reach out to touch her cheek.

“Your hand is cold."

You find yourself smiling, but also worried. This moment is magical, but you’ve no idea how long it shall last. She has yet to explain it, and you’re already dreading the moment it will inevitably end.

“Fret not, dear Reader.” She senses your distraught. “I’ll be here so long as that fire burns. Even then, there’ll be more nights like this one.”

You put your arm behind her, and lay her down on the grass. She fidgets slightly, but lets you do as you please. Her arms wrap behind your neck.

“Are you taking advantage of this blind girl?” Sandra asks, smirking.

You kiss her.

She kisses back, and draws you in closer. You can feel her breasts beneath yours, as you come to lie directly atop. Your body heat melt into one, flickering under the night breeze. There’s a jolt wherever her skin meets yours. Her breathing accelerates as your hand slides under the dark poncho; her entire form shivers in reaction to your touch, nails digging into your back, arms vaulted over your narrow shoulders. Yet, you find yourself hesitating.

“Please,” she whispers, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

You understand those words. You also understand that your once simple desire to hold her and feel her warmth has transformed into one of fleshly craving. You sweat. Hands comb through your hair and rests on the nape of your neck, as you slowly undress her.


End file.
